


God Help Me ™

by himitsutsubasa



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Gold Stars, M/M, Q Branch, Tumblr, reward system
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 16:37:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9244931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/himitsutsubasa/pseuds/himitsutsubasa
Summary: Prompt by A-Forger-And-A-Pointmani just know in my heart that q gives double-os gold stars for returning their equipment, and for every ten stickers collected, they are allowed to lose a gadget without reprimand or punishmentjames bond, who had a childhood without stickers, has grown accustomed to the fact that he will never get oneever





	

> _To Agents,_
> 
> _I will be instating a new system._
> 
> _You will receive a gold star for each time you return with ALL equipment (bringing back additional equipment, while sometimes useful, does not count 006). For each time you lose your weapon, you are reprimanded. However, if you receive 10 gold stars, you are given a free pass the next time you lose a piece of equipment._
> 
> _This program will be effective immediately and I have a board at my desk for you to leave your stickers at. That is all._
> 
> _Q_

Two weeks in, they are all equally stunned when 009 is in the lead. She is young and beautiful and has a voice like Scarlett Johansson and brings back all her equipment. Her gold stars line up in a perfect line, like little soldiers, ready to march for kind and country.

James likes and hates her on principle.

By the end of the month, 007 and 004 are the two without stars and everyone else falls somewhere in between, with 006 arguing the hard drive he brought back should count for something because it helped with 002′s case.

“I feel like I’m in grade school,” 004 grumbles as he get his kit off. “It’s damn offensive to be treated like a kindergartener.”

James doesn’t say anything. It seems like a good carrot-stick system. “Unusual, but effective. Dignity may be sacrificed for effectiveness.”

The agent scoffs. “Yeah, says you. You’re always in a three piece suit.”

007 shrugs and returns his equipment. It’s missing that weird baton thing. 

“Where’s my titanium alloy police baton?”

007 stares impassively. It’s… stuck up a dead man’s… Well, Q didn’t need to know that.

Q grumbles as he quickly checks over the materials. “007, you’re always so close to getting your star. A little more effort, please.”

James nods and when he’s able to leave he does. He does pop by Q’s table to leave a small gift behind. It’s a cologne, niche and 007 had loved the heady smell of it when he smelled it in the market. It was a miracle it had survived his little adventure. 

He whistles a little tune on his way out. Sure, he’s not capable of getting a star, but he’s not raising hell in the new head quarters and that has to mean something. 

By the end of the next month, 004 has a star, crooked and peeling off in some places, but he has a star on the board and James is the only one without one.

* * *

Q pasted on a smile as 007 walked in. He had been on the radio the whole time and it was exhausting. Now all he needed the Agent to do was return his equipment and Q could return to his apartment and feed Linux. 

“How was Bermuda?”

“Hot.” 007 grinned, shiny and sharp, and Q let a real smile crawl on his face as he wondered how anyone let that man on a plane when his suit looked like he had gone through the clean cycle at a carwash.

Q collected the equipment from a still tired 007 and shoo’ed him along straight to medical. God, four days, hot sun and minimal fresh water. 007 hadn’t even paused for rest, just some food, before hopping on a plane for the UK. 

Q finished cataloging the items. 

It was definitely something 007 would wear and he had no reason to think Q would wear it. Mother of pearl and silver, also a bit clunkier than the smooth smartwatch Q normally wore. It was fairly light though, for it’s size. Prying back the back, he found a small hollow space and inside was the location device 007 thought he had lost. (Q was not going to tell him that the little plastic thing stuck to the small of his back was a decoy for the trackers in his blood. 007 was still a bit skittish around that new tech.)

Q thought back through the mission. Right. 007 had picked up that watch in a market somewhere after his was broken in a fight. It was… because 007 was 007, a flashy watch, with a tracker because it was supposed to be used to bribe a cartel member. The agent was smart enough to move the tracker over to this, sleek and tasteful version.

Q also recalled the man they were trying to bribe being gunned down at some point. Losses were losses. 

He smiled and turned to his board. The agents and some of the Q-branch had started betting on it and Q would have lied if he said he hadn’t gotten in on it too, discreetly, through his second. 

Today was a surprise and he was going to collect.

* * *

The ringing in his ear wakes him from a pleasant dream. One about musk and amber and long limbs and dark hair. 

“Alex, what?” 

James is in bed and is the absolutely worst James there is. There’s no woman or man, just him and his desire to sleep for the next 20 years because the medications medical gave him are making him a little drowsy and he’s pissed that they gave him the ones that ensure he can’t enjoy a nice scotch if he wants to live more than three hours after consuming it.

“James, mate, you screwed 008 and 003 out of 200 quid. It’s fantastic.”

“What?”

“Q’s board.” He’s imagining Alex gesturing with his hands as is the Russian’s way. Ah, yes, the star board.

James smiles. He should make a joke about the board when he’s on a boat.

“What about it?” He couldn’t imagine 003 and 008 had bet that he would bring anything  back by a date. It just wasn’t realistic. 

“YOU HAVE A STAR.”

Oh.

“Bullshit.”

James dragged his drowsy ass out of bed. What was this fuckery?

* * *

Regina waved her arms in a placating way. The crowd seemed to calm at the sight of a woman who could be their grandmother and often acted like it. 

“I know there is a bit of a scene here, but the board is accurate. 007 has a star.”

A few grumbles rippled through the crowd. 

R smiled. “Now, let’s all be proud of him and pay up.”

Q sat in his office, watching this play out. HIs clear board, really a wall of his glass office, with the chart drawn out on it, was obviously visible. The gold star sat in James’ row like a beacon. 

James Bond had gotten a golden star.

More noise erupted from outside as the man of the hour made an appearance.

He looked like a sleepy cat. Dressed in a soft t-shirt, sweater, and more casual pants. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed, tossed on something, and made his way over to Q branch to deny all the lying liars who said he had a star.

Okay, so Q had intercepted a call, but in his defense, 006 had more or less sent him a message saying that he was going call 007.

But god, he was so soft looking. A killing machine that would slaughter indiscriminately if needed, but so soft and warm looking. Q would not deny his heat seeking tendencies often started and ended with thoughts about what 007 looked like in his off hours.

“The tracker you thought you lost was in the watch you gave me.”

007 paused, then nodded. Right. It seemed the agent forgot about that little switch over. He must have been exhausted.

Q stood from his chair and reached out his hand. “Good work, 007.”

007 stared, for a split second, before taking the hand and a warm rumble escaped his chest. 

“Thank you, Q.”

“It’s… it’s nothing, 007. You did commendable work and honestly, the star chart does not reflect the ability of the agent. You do good work all the time.”

Damn. Fuck. But James looks like he’s starting to understand something, though he’s not really sure what.

007 moved in closer, seemingly smelling the air. “I see you like the scent.”

“I like everything you give me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Only a matter of time until praise kink


End file.
